


Different Masques

by fabricdragon



Series: Shapeshifter and Werecreature shuffle [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Mycroft Holmes, Post-Canon, Secrets, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 23:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21107720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: It is clearly a matter of drugs, or a psychological break, when one of Mycroft Holmes fellow ‘minor bureaucrats' starts talking about vampires… isn't it?And naturally this has to interrupt his belated realization that there is a possibility of a more than professional relationship with Greg Lestrade.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vulpesmellifera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulpesmellifera/gifts).

Mycroft absolutely did not credit the supernatural; thus when one of his fellows in Ultra clearance spoke to him in confidence about supernatural beings and so on, his immediate response was to ask if they had seen a therapist lately, and had their food tested for drugs.

“No, of course I haven't seen a therapist!” Ulysses snarled, “You know as well as I do that it isn't secure!”

Tested your food for drugs?” Mycroft asked calmly, while making a note to have his own security checked again.

“Naturally- my security has been gone over several times; besides, no one knows who I am- unlike you I don't deal with the royals and besides _my_ family doesn't draw attention!”

Mycroft counted to three and rearranged his pens, “Yes, thank you for that entirely unnecessary reminder.” he looked back up at the man, “I will look into it, since it is a security issue, however, I strongly urge you to assume drugs, sub-sonic manipulation, or extreme stress and take appropriate measures.”

...

So naturally later that day Sherlock had to get involved in something that required ‘settling down’ before it blew up. Thankfully Gregory-  _ No, never, never Gregory, DI Lestrade _ \- managed to deal with it with his usual efficiency. By the time Mycroft got out of his car on site, the major issues were dealt with.

“Mister Holmes,” Gregory gave him a smile while no one was watching and then put a more typical expression on his face, “Can we have a few words about your brother, please?”

Gregory had been good looking as a brunet, and was now utterly striking in silver. Unlike his brother, he had realized that the man had gone grey some time before and had been dying his hair, but the silver suited him… how it suited him…he realized he had been a bit occupied in his mind when Lestrade spoke.

“You alright, Mycroft?” Gregory said quietly, “you went away again…”

Mycroft nodded, “My apologies, I had… an associate had just been pointing out the security problems inherent in my brothers… activities, and then this…”

“Oi…” Lestrade dragged a hand through his hair, “He does have the most interesting timing, doesn't he? “ Lestrade tilted his head faintly and then grinned, “you still owe me dinner, though.”

It was a running joke that wasn't a joke: Mycroft owed the man far more than dinner, but that was all he would permit Mycroft to buy him. “Indeed, Inspector, after dealing with my brother a good dinner is the least I can offer..”

_ I can make it through dinner… I’ve managed before… simply appreciate the scenery and keep it professional. _

Mycroft did as they had done previously and suggested several locations from which Lestrade would choose one… as usual he only knew the ones that Mycroft had taken him to before, all of them being out of his usual price range and likely out of his usual interest. He picked one that they hadn't been to in some time- not since shortly after his brothers ‘resurrection’...

Once they were settled at table, Mycroft had to give the nod to Lestrade’s memory- this was by far the most private option.

“Did you chose this one for the privacy? Or the food?” Mycroft finally asked.

“Can’t you tell?” 

“I suspect a bit of both, Inspector, but, as Sherlock often refuses to acknowledge, deductions become far more unreliable when there is personal bias.”

Lestrade leaned forward and rested his elbow on the table- something that would annoy Mycroft no end if anyone else did it- and looked at him with those deep brown eyes, “And is there? Personal bias?”

Mycroft froze…  _ Lestrade… sounded like he was flirting? But he wasn't… _

“Mycroft?” he waved a hand, “Good God, I broke him,” he muttered. “Honestly Mycroft, if you aren't at all interested could you just TELL me instead of constantly sending me such mixed signals?”

“...what?”

“You constantly give me the impression you are… interested in maybe spending time with me that ISN’T involved in Sherlock… but whenever I try to follow up you freeze or retreat behind your business, and act like it’s completely unwanted…” Lestrade sighed and sat back in his chair, “Seriously, it's frustrating.”

Mycroft had an urge to flee… one press of his finger would trigger an automated text alerting him to a ‘critical problem’ he needed to deal with… 

“Ah… well…” he tried to speak around a suddenly dry mouth, “Yes.” he grabbed the water glass with a bit much enthusiasm and held onto it for dear life.

Lestrade looked intensely puzzled, “Yes?”

After taking several sips of water he braced himself, “It… would be … not unpleasant… to spend time with you… without it involving…”

The waiter came by at that moment, of course: Mycroft didn't know whether to breathe a sigh of relief, excuse himself and run, or… he ended up rather flustered over his order.

After the waiter left Lestrade cleared his throat, “Mycroft… if I made it through that maze of vocabulary… are you saying you would be interested in, oh, say, a date? Without the pretense of your brother causing mayhem or you owing me dinner?”

“It doesn't need to disturb our arrangements, Inspector, my… unprofessional interest hasn't been an issue thus far I trust?” _ I don't think I could stand it if my admissions meant not seeing him again. _ He began working on what words, and what actions, would smooth this all over.

Lestrade blinked at him several times, and then looked as though he might laugh- he sipped at his water. “Ummm… Mycroft… d’you mean you honestly HAVEN’T noticed me flirting with you for, oh, the past two years?”

Mycroft’s deductions spun to a stop. “... what?”

Lestrade was now unsuccessfully trying to stifle his amusement with his napkin. “I’ve been trying to pick you up since… well, since I got over my wife, frankly. You always put me off, but then sometimes you would act like you MIGHT be encouraging me…”

“...” Mycroft found himself speechless. 

He finally managed to say, “I thought I was, ah. engaging in wishful thinking; given that you were obviously interested in women…”

Lestrade’s mouth worked silently, as though he were chewing on words- or strangling back laughter. “Both, both is a thing: I thought that was better known these days... um… I don't actually care much what someone has in their pants as long as they’re interesting- and interested.” he tilted his head, “although we have one other thing in common besides your brother, I think.”

Rather dazedly Mycroft asked, “... and that would be?”

“I don’t like strong scents- for that matter I'm cautious about really strong flavors; except coffee, I got used to that as a cop.” he waved at the place settling, “If you were really into garlic it would be an issue, for instance: it comes out the pores…” Lestrade wrinkled his nose.

Mycroft made a face, “indeed it does- no, while garlic is integral to many excellent dishes, going to excess is… unpleasant.”  _ He… was interested… in me? _

“One of the officers I used to work with ate the stuff constantly- raw, roasted, on sandwiches…” he chuckled, “you could smell him… heck, I hated to take the elevator after he’d been in it.”

Mycroft shuddered “I believe I may have had the misfortune to ride in the elevator to speak to you after that individual… that was… not long after we began dealing with each other.”

Lestrade nodded, “So that's a turn off- that and people who bathe in scents.” Lestrade winced. “I tried one of those dating things… online?” when Mycroft nodded he went on, “Nice looking, attractive voice, but positively bathed in scent.” Lestrade pantomimed gagging, “no.”

Mycroft shivered at the recollection of several people he had had to deal with who also bathed in perfumes, “Good God, I hadn't thought about… yes I used to have to deal with a elderly Duchess who… I suspect her sense of smell was going, and she used a heavy hand with the perfume.” Mycroft inhaled deliberately of subtle food scents, unscented candles, and wine.

Lestrade grinned, “We keep talking about that we’ll put ourselves right off the food, so I suggest we drop it; anyway you use a light hand with your cologne, and… it suits you.”

Mycroft nodded slowly, “on the rare occasions I have noted you smelling of anything but…” he hesitated, uncertain of how to phrase it.

“Stale coffee, donuts, crime scents, dust, and the MET offices?”

Mycroft blinked at him and then smiled faintly, “well… yes, usually- precisely right. You at least do not smell of a lack of cleanliness of yourself: you can't help the offices.” 

The waiter brought the first dishes- a light soup for Lestrade and a salad for Mycroft.

“So what have you noticed when I don't smell like work?” Lestrade asked teasingly… And he put the empty spoon in his mouth and pulled it out slowly, suggestively… Mycroft felt suddenly a bit overheated.

“Inspector…” Mycroft managed after a moment, “If you expect me to be able to carry on a conversation you shall have to cease that at once.”

“I’ll make you a deal, Mycroft,” Lestrade grinned wickedly at him, “I’ll back off on the over the top seduction moves, if you’ll prove that you actually believe I’m interested by …”

“By?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

“Prove you’re better than your brother at saying my first name.” he smirked.

“Gregory is a very nice name, and I would be delighted,”

“Good, then I can save the pantomimes until, oh, at least our second or third date… right?”

Mycroft kept sneaking glances at the man as he ate the lamb, but all he did was smirk faintly and continue on his perfectly pleasant conversation.

… and the conversation was pleasant- as it usually was when it didn't involve trying to keep his brother out of trouble.

When they rather reluctantly parted ways- his driver dropping Lestrade-  _ Gregory  _ -off at the MET to pick up his car- Gregory leaned forward and took his hand. “It's been a pleasure, and… I look forward to an actual date without pretense.” and then he gently kissed Mycroft's hand…a feather light touch of his lips with his eyes promising far more…

And he walked back into the building… leaving an utterly stunned Mycroft Holmes to go home and try to order his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

“You want me to attend a what?!” Mycroft almost couldn't credit what he was hearing.

“A masquerade ball being thrown by one of the royals for their charity,” Ulysses said shakily. “I have reason to believe that… I have reason to believe that some of the  _ individuals  _ that I was concerned about may be in attendance.”

Ulysses was even more obviously unwell now- haggard looking, pale, and with distinct dark circles under his eyes. Mycroft reached into his desk and got out one of his headache pills, “You think… vampires… are going to a costume party? And you want me… to do what?”

“I want you to see for yourself!” he frowned, “Also, its possible they are trying to target some of the high security individuals who will be in attendance.” His eyes looked haunted.

“You think vampires… may be attending a costume ball… to target… one of the royals?” Mycroft would have been reaching for the security alarm by now if this was anyone else, but Arthur- Ulysses- had no imagination at all, and he had very obviously been drugged… 

Which did make this a security issue…

Mycroft stated decisively. “I will attend this...event,” he suppressed a shudder,,”if you will accompany me to MI6 medical right now and get a full blood draw.”

“Fine!” he agreed.

Mycroft was certain they would find a simple drug - or a not so simple drug- that could cause paranoia or some such and then it would be a simple matter of tracking that down.

…

All they found was evidence of a very bad diet and high stress.

Mycroft ended up with an invitation- fancy dress required- for himself and a plus one. Ulysses expected him to bring his brother. Mycroft considered that carefully: Sherlock would cause an international incident, assuming he didn't just provoke Ulysses into having him deported… again. He could not bring Sherlock.

Mycroft bit his lip and stared at the phone… after working up his nerve he called Gregory.

“Lestrade.” the man’s faintly distracted voice answered.

“Gregory…”

In a much warmer tone the man said, “Hold on a mo- let me get into the office…” Mycroft could hear him saying something to one of the other officers, and then the door shut. “Mycroft...I haven't even seen Sherlock today; dare I hope this is a personal call?”

“It is… and is not.” Mycroft said and then sighed,  _ how was he going to explain this? _

“Go not to the Holmes for counsel, for they will say both yes and no,” Gregory laughed.

Mycroft chuckled despite himself, “Please tell me you have actually read the books, not just seen the movies?”

“I have, in fact, read the books: I prefer the movies.”

Mycroft frowned, “why would you prefer the movies? They leave so much out.”

“I’ll discuss THAT over a non business dinner,” Mycroft could hear him put his feet up on the desk. “so what’s the reason for the call?”

“I am being forced to attend a Charity Event for Halloween.”

“You know I can HEAR that you capitalized that…” Gregory sounded amused, “alright… and this has to do with me?”

“The person insisting I go wants me to… well they have some ridiculous fears and they expect me to confirm them. I expect to find out what’s causing their obvious mental breakdown, but … the invitation is for myself and a plus one…”

“You want me to come to a charity event, with you? Umm, Mycroft, as much as I would love to… I am QUITE certain I don't have a suit fit for whatever you’re going to.”

“It's a fancy dress- costume required.” Mycroft said grumpily.

“I can go as an overworked underpaid cop…?”

“If you will do me the favor of attending, I will of course purchase your costume- I need to buy one for myself.”

“And you want me to go? You… don't sound like you want to go…”

“To be plain, Gregory, I do not wish to go, but the individual who is in all likelihood having paranoid delusions is, ah, another ‘minor government functionary’ and it is therefore a security issue. Given that I have to go… your company would do wonders towards making it bearable.”

There was a pause and then Gregory chuckled, “well with such a glowing recommendation how could I refuse… alright.” he then added, “Plus we go to dinner someplace FAR more casual- I’m not fussy about where- and we can talk about my taste in books and movies.”

“Agreed.”

…

Acquiring costumes was surprisingly simple- he asked Lady Smallwood where to go, since she had thrown some kind of costume event a few years ago. She directed him to a shop that handled both rental and purchase costumes… and did tailoring.

Mycroft was purchasing, of course… rental costumes would have been worn by someone else- intolerable. Then he thought about it again and decided on a costume that would be able to be handled by his usual tailors- not some… stranger.

...

Gregory met him at the shop. “Even the costume shops are upscale… are you sure…?”

“Quite certain,” Mycroft nodded firmly, “if I have to go I may as well be accompanied by a dashing… hmmm… we could have you done as a fairy tale prince, I suppose?”

Gregory smiled, “Me? Mycroft, you might be able to pull off the prince- in fact that's a lovely idea! You could do Prince Charming!”

Mycroft shook his head- although he was flattered. “I was hoping to attend as John Steed, from the Avengers.”

“So… no costume then?”

“I should need a proper hat…” he said firmly, “and a different suit, and rather a different umbrella.”

Gregory tried to convince him to be more adventurous in his costuming, but Mycroft stood firm. He did, however, encourage the proprietor to outfit Gregory in something eye catching. Mycroft meanwhile put in a call to his tailors to have them make up a duplicate of one of the more typical outfits for his costume as John Steed. It might still be a suit with a vest- and umbrella- but he was going to have the look done properly.

When he came back from arranging his own ‘costume’ he found Gregory in deep conversation with the proprietor and surrounded by what appeared to be various boots, tunics… and swords?

“Have you decided on…” he hesitated, “ah… Lord of the Rings?”

“Aragorn.” Gregory said cheerfully.

“None of these are the right color…”

“From the movie they are!”

They proceeded to have a cheerfully heated discussion about which description of the costume would suit better- and be more recognizable. Mycroft eventually had to concede that far more people would recognize him as Aragorn from the movie.

Gregory seemed quite delighted by the swords… so as they were leaving (to come back again in a few days for a fitting) Mycroft asked him, “Do you know how to use a sword?”

“What? Me? No…” Gregory blinked at him and then smiled, “I understand you and your brother actually do, though- I have to admit that was intriguing.”

Mycroft smiled just a bit, “intriguing?”

“Yeah.”

“Dashing possibly?”

“Totally.”

After they were settled into the car Mycroft turned and asked: “... would you care to learn?”

Gregory blinked at him a lot and finally said, “well, to be honest, I'd be more interested in watching you, but… sure, why not - in that copious free time we both have?”

“Ah, a point.” he cleared his throat, “now… to another point: you requested a more casual place to dine and… I don't know any that I can tolerate.”

“Well… ah… what sorts of things CAN’T you tolerate?”

“You’ve dealt with Sherlock well enough, and I know you have observed that… well we both deduce a great deal…”

“Noooooo, really?” Gregory grinned even while he rolled his eyes, “I’d be a pretty lousy cop not to notice THAT.”

“Too much… too much data is difficult for us both- more so for me: crowds, noise, television and multiple discussions… multiple PEOPLE… its… overwhelming, or can be.” Mycroft took a deep breath and admitted, “I also tend to get… distressed easily in crowds and… situations I can't control. Its a security issue, and… frankly I don't know how my brother stands some of the places he visits- or lives.”

“I think he’s better at tuning things out… or he used drugs to,” Gregory said calmly. “Explains your office and so on being quite so plain… I’d wondered.”

“... had you?”

“That and… well, like me, you’re sensitive to strong smells and so on… so it makes sense- I guess a pub with people chatting and sports on would be-”

“Close to torture, usually.” Mycroft admitted.

Gregory bit his lip and clearly refrained from mentioning recent events that involved actual torture. Well,” he rolled his shoulders back- showing off the fact that he was still quite fit- “how about Italian at Angelos? They do have some less garlicky dishes… or…” he hesitated, “Carry out? And go eat someplace more private? Quieter?”

Mycroft took hold of his nerves and hit the intercom for his driver: he gave him instructions to go to a carry out restaurant that had been security vetted and had an excellent selection of choices. Then he informed Gregory of the menu choices…

“And… if you will not think it too forward, we could go to my home?” Mycroft cleared his throat, “Just… for dinner.”

“Can they do a rare steak?” Gregory asked hopefully, and then shrugged, “Fancy stuff is nice, but a bit of beef… well.”

Mycroft ordered, they picked it up and after being tormented by the smell of a well prepared meal during the drive, they finally got to his home.

“I am not accustomed to company… do bear with me as I arrange the tableware.”

“Can I help set the table?”

Mycroft demurred- he knew where everything was after all- and in short order they were seated over a very simple but excellent meal.

Gregory looked around, “A bit better than most places you’ve taken me.”

“Seriously?”

“Nothing to detract from the company…”

“I… ah… haven't had anyone over… in years at least.” Mycroft felt unbearably unsettled. “It’s… awkward.”

“First dates are always awkward,” Gregory chuckled, “I think it's a rule.”

“So this is a first date then?”

“Well.. it must be- last time you didn't even think I was interested until half way through the dinner… this time you knew I was when you invited me, so last time wasn't a date and this time is.”

Mycroft couldn't help the small smile. “Sound logic…”

They talked for hours. 

They talked about books, and movies, and the idiocy of certain government regulations, and…

It was nice: they had had years to become comfortable with each other and now that they finally both admitted they were attracted… well they were far more comfortable with each other- even if the… personal reactions were still a bit awkward.

Mycroft finally got Gregory a ride home at an ungodly hour of the morning.

Before he left Gregory stopped and frowned, “Oh… uh… just as a heads up, Mycroft; this weekend will likely be a busy one for me… might not have a lot of time.”

“Oh?” Mycroft didn't recall seeing anything notable on the agency calendar.

Gregory nodded, “Anytime you have a weekend you have drunks and criminals on parade… and I know it's only a superstition about the full moon and hospital calls, but… a lot of the crazy drunks and criminals seem to follow the superstition.”

“It… will be the full moon? And this… makes things busier?” Mycroft tried not to sound too incredulous, but after dealing with Ulysses it was just a bit much.

“Ask any cop or emergency responder: full moons mean busier… and when the full moon falls on a weekend- which is busier anyway- it's horrid.” Gregory made a face, “The only thing worse is Christmas and New Years.”

Mycroft considered the number of people who followed superstition and its likely impact on Gregory’s duties and winced. “Ah… I see… and if these holidays have a full moon and a weekend as well?”

Gregory mocked putting his hand over Mycroft’s mouth, “You shouldn’t provoke the dispatch gods.” he then pulled his hand away and leaned in and kissed him softly. “But I forgive you.”

Mycroft couldn't help but touch his lips, “I shall endeavor not to tempt fate… in exchange for a regular tax of kisses at parting.”

Gregory grinned widely, “Ooooh… the office will never know what hit them!”

“I meant in private!” Mycroft sputtered and then sighed as he realized he’d been had. “Go on, shoo… I shall not be too disappointed if you cannot see me this weekend then.”

Mycroft watched him get into the car and closed the door. 

Gregory was… charming, infuriating, ridiculous, kind...and loyal to the bone: he had never understood why the man’s ex-wife had not appreciated him.

_ Well, her loss- or folly- was my gain... _


	3. Chapter 3

As it happened, not only was Gregory very busy- Sherlock declared one of his cases a ‘seven’ at least- but apparently superstitious paranoia was contagious. Mycroft was kept very busy trying to deal with the less predictable behavior of some of the novice politicians and leaders…

...Although dignifying a few of them with the title of leader was a stretch.

He also had to assure Ulysses repeatedly that he was going to be there and yes he was bringing ‘a detective’ - although the insult that Mycroft would need to bring Sherlock to solve this case made it difficult to bite his tongue. He would have said considerably more to Ulysses about it except that ALL of them in Ultra clearance were needed, and quite busy. Why so many Western Governments had to elect dangerously unbalanced- or dangerously fascist- people at the same time was beyond him- it said something that the Koreans were the least of his worries at the moment.

Mycroft heard from Gregory over the next few days- he’d gotten to another fitting and was basically done with his costume- and they managed to meet for a very late night cup of hot chocolate.

“Well, I have to admit your car is bigger than some pub booths…” Gregory smiled as he slid into the back.

“Indeed, and quieter.”

Mycroft was charmed as Gregory nodded and saluted him with the cup, “To your health!”

“Thank you, and yours.”

They sat quietly with the hot chocolate, Mycroft letting the stress of the day fade away: Gregory was really quite pleasant company…unlike almost anyone else he didn't feel drained after dealing with the man. “You aren't people.” he found himself saying.

Gregory choked on the dregs of his hot chocolate, “uh… how? Uh...what do you mean by that?” he finally said cautiously.

Mycroft felt himself flushing, “My apologies, I didn't phrase that well: Most people… most people drain my reserves- they are taxing to deal with. Even people I actually do LIKE to deal with, and that is very few people indeed, are… tiring.”

Gregory arched an eyebrow, “So you’re either an introvert or you’re surrounded by… ah… tiring people.” he tilted his head, “could be both- ok, so… I’m not people?”

“No… ah… I find it actually… you don't use up a great deal of my energy to deal with- I actually find you comfortable?”

“Ohhh….” Greg then smiled, “Thank you, that’s a very high compliment. I’m afraid I'm not that introverted myself- couldn't make it in my job if dealing with random people tired me out.”

“You couldn't meet John Watson in a pub,” Mycroft nodded, “casually I mean…”

“For introverts that's tiring, for extroverts its recharging,” Gregory nodded. “I’m a bit of a -there’s a term…” Gregory muttered a bit and then exclaimed, “ambivert! That's it: sometimes I find gatherings recharging, sometimes they’re just a bit too much.”

Mycroft blinked several times and made a note to look up the term, “That makes more sense than the dichotomous introvert/extrovert labels I heard about- they never seemed to fit properly.”

“You are the only person I know- okay other than Sherlock- who can use the words you use without sounding like you’re trying too hard.”

“I always tended to run people off- even on the rare occasions I wasn't trying- because…”

Gregory sat back with an amused look, “because you two are both arrogant superior gits who generally figure everyone else is an idiot?”

Mycroft winced and muttered, “accurate.”

“Well, I long ago figured that if I was going to hang about I better get used to it- but I don't put up with anyone treating me like I'm a complete idiot…” he looked suddenly sad, “Ok, except about my ex: I was.”

Mycroft cleared his throat, “it was… tactless of my brother to point out her continuing affair at the party.”

“Yeah, it was… “ Gregory sighed, “Still, better than getting back together with her… again.” he huddled down and muttered unhappily into the empty cup.

Mycroft braced himself and reached out to take Gregory’s hand, “You deserved better, and… your loyalty is commendable- very likely saved my brother’s life, that- even if in your ex wife’s case it was misplaced.”

Gregory looked up with such an open hopeful smile it was almost physically painful… and Mycroft could suddenly see exactly how long Gregory had hoped… how often he had held back from attempting a relationship…

“I… am very sorry I did not see your interest clearly before, Gregory: admittedly I wasn't… I wasn't… I wasn't perhaps ready to attempt a relationship.”

“With everything you were dealing with?” He ducked his head and then looked back up at him, and was holding his hand in turn, “Well… we’re here now, eh?”

“Indeed...ah...this was supposed to be a short meeting for warm drinks and perhaps allowing me to drive you home.” Mycroft admitted, “And as it is my driver has been driving about for some time.”

Gregory sat back up from his more accustomed slouch. “We…” he cleared his throat nervously, “Mycroft there are some things I need to make sure you understand before… before it goes any further: I’m… well as you said I’m loyal; the down side of that is-”

“If you are jealous, it certainly has not led you to violence of any sort.” Mycroft pointed out, “Your ex wife is not in fear of you, and her various paramours and other exes are all well.”

Greg paused, “I certainly COULD become violent: I work very hard not to permit myself to. I tend to… well become a bit more of an asshole in general when I'm upset, but I try not to let it go to violence.” He frowned down at Mycroft’s hand, “I kept taking her back- hell I chased her and begged more than once… if… if we got serious i’m very much afraid that a repeat of that would… well it might break me.”

“Would it help if I promised to shoot you first?” Mycroft attempted some levity- it fell completely flat.

“Might be a good idea.”

Mycroft stared at him, “I am… you are truly concerned that you might become abusive if…?”

“Mycroft… to be honest I was… i was never well suited to my wife- ex wife.” he let go of Mycroft’s hands and forced his hands into his lap. “But I fell for her, and I think she honestly fell for me, and… she had no idea how hard a cop’s life was… she wanted me to quit, and I … I tried to tell her about the family, and obligations, but-”

Mycroft nodded and spoke as gently as he could, “There has been a Lestrade on the force since your family moved to England- not always in London: there was a Guillame Lestrade as a Detective Inspector in Queen Victoria’s Day…”

Gregory looked a bit startled and then smiled, “right, you looked me up.”

“When you started dealing with my brother, and then… I admit I looked into more for… personal reasons.”

Gregory chuckled, “Alright, Holmes: tell me what you found out that isn't on my MET bio- other than the family history of police service.”

“Well, the usual from a background check of course.” Mycroft smiled- and wasn't it odd how often he smiled around Gregory- “but… In every generation of your family there has been a G Lestrade… and almost always some family member serves in the police.” Mycroft flicked through the files in his mind, “That goes back further than even you may be aware… members of your extended family have served in something LIKE law enforcement- or personal enforcement- for as far back as I can trace: here in England and before that in France. One branch of your family actually accompanied the Norman invasion as the King’s… well, enforcer, although they were not as public-”

Gregory swore quietly in french.

“- and you speak fluent French, which for some reason you haven't put down in your resume,” Mycroft looked warily at him hoping he hadn't upset him.

Gregory was shaking his head, “Holmeses… damn…. Uh… anything… else?”

Mycroft cast his mind over things, “well a number of your family have died by violence or politics… usually rather quietly- but I expect being in that kind of enforcement you made enemies.”

Gregory closed his mouth and sighed, “There’s a bit more to it, but that's more than most folks know… uh.. “ he rubbed the back of his neck and messed up his hair- again- “Yes, my family has been… a lot more involved in politics than is healthy.” he muttered, “among other things.”

Mycroft finally gave in to the temptation he’d had for years, and reached out to comb his fingers through Gregory’s hair and set it back in place- it was as lovely as he’d imagined- “I am not the fickle sort, but I am also… I don't live a risk free life myself, and my schedule can change abruptly, and without being able to tell anyone why, or for how long: it has destroyed more than a few relationships.”

Gregory reached up and gently touched his hair where Mycroft’s fingers had smoothed it back, “just… figured I better warn you that if you go much further with this… i’m… a bit…”

“Loyal.” Mycroft said firmly, “and a valued and rare trait. Do you understand that there will be things I cannot tell you? But that it does not mean I am… being unfaithful.”

“Can you understand that that applies to me, too? Your background check was more thorough than I thought, but… its not everything.”

Mycroft sighed, “I have NO question that I will dig after anything I notice- I almost can’t help it.”

“Yeah, you and Sherlock are alike that way, but I bet you aren't as easy to distract off…’

Mycroft smirked, “no, but…” he allowed his gaze to linger on the man a bit before looking away, “I think you could manage: in any event, I wouldn't be concerned about your faithfulness, just… I am , to quote my brother, annoying that way.”

“My family… will likely not approve.” he shrugged, “it's complicated.”

“My parents are not currently involved in my life…”

“They were cruel,” Gregory nodded, “I hope for your sake they come around.”

Mycroft got lost for a moment in his own failings, and the situation, and then suddenly Gregory tilted his head up and kissed him- kissed him with far more passion than he had before.

Mycroft was still blinking, stunned, as Gregory slipped out of the car.

“This is like the eighth time the driver went past my home, so I think it's a hint he would like to go home himself… G’night!”


	4. Chapter 4

Almost before Mycroft knew it, it was time for the event. 

He’d had to start foisting Ulysses’s calls onto his secretaries- the man was coming completely apart. If he didn't find an outside cause soon he would have to tell the other Ultra Clearance members about it…

They would likely insist on more immediate action.

He’d seen Gregory several times more, of course, but never with any degree of time or privacy, but… he smiled- with his eyes if he couldn't otherwise- whenever he saw Mycroft; knowing Mycroft could tell… 

_ he wasn't put off that I could tell. _

As Mycroft dressed for the masque- into a near perfect replica of John Steed’s outfit; his tailors and such had out done themselves- he mused again on how someone so utterly perfect could be missed for so long. He’d long ago grown to like Gregory, despite their differences, but it had never crossed his mind to think of sharing his life with the man…

_ Had I been blind?  _ Mycroft sighed to himself _ , More likely blinded by everything I was dealing with, and of course Gregory was married for some of that time…  _

_ I always did forget to re-evaluate people when circumstances changed. _

He looked into the mirror and smiled just slightly- hopefully Gregory would appreciate the somewhat old fashioned tailoring.

Mycroft decided there was time for tea before Gregory arrived- just- he started a cup of coffee for Gregory as well, and then his thoughts turned back to Ulysses.

_ If this was… if there wasn't a cause to it? _ Mycroft put his head in his hands.  _ Long term paranoid delusions in anyone with our level of clearance- our secured knowledge- was a death sentence: he would have to be removed quickly before he endangered too many... _

Faint footsteps. “Did… I come at the wrong time?” Greg’s worried voice.

“Ah..” Mycroft took a breath and pulled himself up, “Of course I had told the security to allow you in… I must have been-” Mycroft cut off mid apology: Gregory looked incredible.

Under the brown wig- making him look a bit younger if somewhat less distinguished- Gregory’s familiar brown eyes sparkled, “do I take it my costume meets with your approval?”

Mycroft’s suit suddenly felt a bit tight in places, “yes. Ah...it… actually suits you very well.”

“I keep having to remember not to knock the hair around, but…” he turned slowly for Mycroft to see the whole effect: he looked quite a bit like the movie Aragorn, for all that Mycroft thought his face much more attractive.

Mycroft put a very serious expression on, “Hmm… there is a flaw in your costume.”

“What?! Oh geez, I got it ripped? Stained?” Gregory’s eyes widened and he was turning and twisting, trying to look over his shoulder.

“No, no… simply your tunic is too long.”

“My tunic is too long?” Gregory looked completely bewildered at him and Mycroft couldn't help but chuckle…

“Gregory... it is simply that It covers your assets.”

Gregory stared at him and then laughed, “my ASSets, huh?”

Mycroft coughed and then walked around the table and retrieved his bowler hat and new umbrella. “Well?”

“Err…” Gregory fidgeted, clearly concerned.

Mycroft shook his head, “There is no wrong answer, Gregory; although to be honest I am slightly curious as to your attention to detail…”

Gregory smiled, “I can see it's the right outfit for the costume- and you always look good-but honestly? The main thing different about it as opposed to your usual suits is that it's… somehow it doesn't look as good on you? Like… I notice the suit instead of you? I don't know why… is it the cut? Maybe the color?” he reached up and scratched at his head as he habitually did and knocked the brown wig slightly askew. “Damn it!”

Mycroft snickered and helped him set the wig back on properly. “It's actually a less flattering cut for me, you are quite correct, and the coloring doesn't suit me as well as my usual choices- I do choose my clothing for effect.”

“So does your brother when he bothers,” Gregory nodded, “So it's not a problem to tell you that , ah, this doesn't suit you as well as your other suits?”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, “I prefer honesty, and you were quite politic… your ex-wife was simply insecure.”

Gregory was very quiet as they left and got into the car. 

Once they were settled into the back and the divider closed, he said, “You know… it never occured to me that THAT was the problem?”

“Pardon?”

“She was always… Chasing after compliments, and… I always knew the reason she had the first affair- the first one I knew about anyway- was because I wasn't paying attention to her with the police and my other duties...I never thought to call her insecure, but I think she is…”

“It seemed obvious?”

Gregory shook his head, “Obvious to a Holmes? Or maybe obvious to an outsider, not to me. I suppose.when we met she was… well…” he looked sideways at Mycroft and smiled a rather wicked flirtatious smile, “Appparently my tastes run to good looking and clearly out of my league.”

Mycroft couldn't possibly let that stand, “Gregory Lestrade, there is no one I know who is ‘out of your league’: you are, in common parlance, quite the catch.”

“Do YOU think so?”

“I do.”

Gregory looked as though he was debating something and then reached down the neck of his tunic and pulled up a chain with a very heavy gold ring dangling from it: He unclipped the chain enough to slip it off, removed the ring, and handed the ring to Mycroft. “There are things we need to talk about.”

Mycroft couldn't help but stare at the ring: to call it an antique was to understate the matter. It had a wolf’s head holding some kind of stone in its mouth in the center, with what looked like heraldic symbols and possibly runes around the band.

“How old is this ring, Gregory… and why on earth are you carrying it about instead of locking it in a safe!”

“I’ve no idea how old it is- or whether it’s an original or duplicate- but this is a family ring.” Gregory shrugged, trying to look casual and failing. “I brought it because… because I wanted to talk to you about family and obligations and relationships. This one should fit you: the one my ex was given is currently being held to be given to someone else joining my family. Part of the family prenuptial agreement forced her to give hers back, of course, but it's not like she wore hers.”

Gregory looked down at Mycroft’s hand holding the ring. “ Most of the family don’t wear them anyway, they wear the plain gold band that everyone recognizes as a wedding band… but that? THAT is a family wedding band: tradition.”

Mycroft frowned, puzzled at him, and Gregory ducked his head and smiled up past the somewhat shaggy brown wig, “I’d like it very much if you would consider making our relationship permanent.”

Mycroft stared at him- he was quite serious, but there was something… Mycroft sat back, and looked at the ring sitting heavily in his hand. “I… you said that there is a great deal more to discuss?”

“There is: to be honest there’s a great deal I never discussed with my ex… and...well my family will have something to say about this.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, “Many families would not approve of a homosexual relationship, at all; much less handing me a family heirloom!”

“Oh… by tradition I could hand over one if I adopted you as well… but… that would be…. Honestly that would be if I gave one to Sherlock- he’s like my very aggravating kid brother.”

Mycroft felt like his chest positively HURT from the emotion he was feeling, knowing that someone else cared for his brother, understood his concerns- he wasn't used to it and it scrambled his objectivity and analysis. 

“If… ah…” he cleared his throat and tried to pretend that the car was… dusty or something, “Well if you actually married me, he would be your brother in law… but… Gregory- Detective Inspector Lestrade: have you considered what making this PUBLIC would do to your reputation?”

Gregory shrugged and stretched out his legs a bit, “First of all, I doubt anything involving your life gets too public.”

“...true.”

“Secondly...the police can't really fire me over something like that, not these days, and my people know me well enough that the worst I might face is some teasing… You’re more likely to run into problems, but I don't- it's not important to me that it be a big public thing. Like you said: I’m loyal… and… As I said, I’m very serious about relationships. I don't even WANT you to give me an answer yet, Mycroft: what I want you to do is  _ consider  _ it.” 

Mycroft had been watching the man carefully, he was quite serious although… there were likely issues with his family that he wasn't mentioning.

“I get the impression that there is a great deal more I would need to know.” Mycroft turned the surprisingly heavy ring over in his hand.

“There certainly is, but… I hadn't exactly planned on having this talk as we pulled up to the party, it just… seemed like the time to do it?” He muttered, “before i chickened out.” then Gregory took a deep breath, “I mean it: I want you to start considering- not answer me now- and… think about what you would want or need from me.”

Mycroft nodded and reached out for the chain held loosely in Gregory’s hand. He slipped the ring back on it and put it around his own neck, under his shirt. It lay very heavily, still warm from Gregory’s body heat, against his chest. “I will consider it… and I agree that we have a great deal to discuss, but…” he waved at the building ahead, “We are here.”


	5. Chapter 5

Mycroft was distracted to say the least He managed to move politely through the event, greeting people, introducing ‘Detective Inspector Lestrade, yes the one that handled THAT case’, and making small-talk all on something like auto-pilot.

He and Gregory had not been dating long- a dinner, a few short meetings for coffee or a ride home- but they had been meeting for meals, drinks, and discussion for years; it was not as though they were strangers.

But all the background checks and spying and reports couldn't really tell you about a person…. Not… not what you needed to know for a relationship.

It was just as he saw Ulysses making his way across the crowd to him that it hit him…

_ I DO know Gregory. Oh there was more I would need to discuss, but… I trust him to enter my home, armed; I trust him to look after my brother; he… he was there even when I faltered and fell in the aftermath of Sherringford…  _

Once again Mycroft wondered how he had missed the fact that he LOVED Gregory- had for some time.

Ulysses stopped and looked unhappily at Gregory and then back at Mycroft- he looked about as badly off as he had last time, perhaps a touch paler. “I thought you were bringing your brother…?”

“No,” Mycroft shook his head, “My brother cannot be trusted with politically delicate matters, as you well know,” -  _ or should know if you were not so ill _ \- “i brought Detective Inspector Lestrade.”

Mycroft turned to introduce Gregory and saw him looking… there was a flash of concern, but also suspicion as he looked at Ulysses. “Gregory, this is one of my… co-workers, Arthur Hayden.”

“Mister Hayden,” Gregory took his hand and frowned, “Your hand is very cold and you don’t look well, have you been seen by-”

Ulysses pulled his hand back, “yes, Holmes already insisted I have a complete health check up,” he turned back to Mycroft, “I need to speak to you about matters that exceed THIS gentleman’s security clearance.”

Gregory smiled but was still looking concerned at Ulysses, “I dunno, my clearance is pretty high.”

“True,” Mycroft smiled briefly and then with a sigh, “very well…” he glanced back at Gregory, “If you could excuse us for a few minutes… and… I have been considering what you asked: there are of course details to be gone over, but the answer is yes.”

He tucked the stunned and delighted look on Gregory’s face away carefully in his memories to be treasured as he walked off to speak with Ulysses.

The instant he walked into the private room the warnings he had been ignoring screamed into overdrive. There was no OBVIOUS reason why four apparently unarmed people in the room should have been a problem, but Mycroft took it in in a glance and knew that they were.

He tried the polite tactic first, “Apologies, wrong room,” and turned to leave.

One of the men moved with what must have been incredible swiftness and took his arm. “You are not leaving.”

“I am afraid I am,” Mycroft managed to surprise the man and break his hold- although it was far more difficult than it should have been- but the second man was suddenly behind him and then both of them had him… and they were much much stronger than they looked- and faster…  _ drugs? _

“Where is the other one, the detective?” the fellow who was in charge of this asked- his accent was very odd, Mycroft could make only the barest estimate of region.

Ulysses… groveled- Mycroft could scarcely believe it. “He brought the wrong one, sir… he brought a detective, but not his brother…”

Mycroft tried again to get loose but the two men holding him might as well have been made of stone, or steel.

The man in charge actually snarled- he was wearing some kind of dental appliance that looked very much like slight fangs- and continued, softly, “We wanted that one, the one that opposed Moriarty, not some worthless-”

Ulysses bowed his head-  _ good God what had they DONE to him?! _ \- and continued, “He’s the one with the MET… he worked with Sherlock and Mycroft… he.. He might be useful.”

Whatever was going on Mycroft needed an alert to get out and he needed to keep the attention focused on his value, and away from Gregory: he spoke as calmly and coolly as he could, “My brother opposed Moriarty, as did I: you are some associates of his?”

The man in charge gestured at his two guards to bring him forward- they did. “No,” he smiled again and Mycroft got a better look at the ‘fangs’ they were quite well done, looked very realistic and very sharp- combined with whatever untraceable drug they had used on Ulysses? No wonder the man believed in vampires. “No, he was a useful creature, perhaps we would have eventually dealt with him directly… “ the man leaned forward and opened his mouth- one of his guards started to pull Mycroft’s head back.

Mycroft wondered what kind of drugs they had already exposed him to, because it all seemed far too threatening and far too real…

“No! Why does HE get a reward!, you promised!” Ulysses’s voice sounded desperate and broken.

“True”, the leader stepped back. “Come.”

Mycroft’s hair was released, and as the guard shifted their grip he managed to get just a bit closer to being able to draw his blade. Ulysses came up immediately and… he was KNEELING at the man?!

The fourth stranger spoke up, “I should probably go retrieve the wrong detective.”

Mycroft didn't dare react and betray Gregory’s value to him, he kept his face very still. Gregory had been exposed to a great number of things thanks to his work with Sherlock, he… might realize the danger...

The leader waved the man off and he slipped out. He then turned to Ulysses and he… pushed back his sleeve and…  _ bit him? _

Ulysses’s eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned- it was an erotic sound and…  _ this was wrong, everything about this was wrong…  _

Mycroft noticed both guards looking avidly at the scene in front of them and twisted in a way to maximize leverage- he managed to draw his umbrella blade. He took the shot that he could, and swung down into the side of one guard’s leg, feeling the cut hit muscle and tendon…

The leader’s head came up, teeth bloody and mouth-  _ his mouth _ !-Ulysses dropped to the floor… Mycroft swung the blade at the other guard and missed, but he’d let go of him to duck the blade. Mycroft ran for the door...someone grabbed his arm and his momentum carried him forward against the hold… he could feel his shoulder wrench.

He was spun in place: he brought up the blade and it was struck out of his hand… he felt like his wrist had been hit by a cricket bat. The guard had him and was squeezing his arms and it HURT-

“Enough.” the leaders voice, annoyed, but not hurried.

His guard reluctantly released some of the force-  _ how… how could he be that strong? _

The leader walked away from crouching over Ulysses- there was blood on the floor and he was paler than he had been, but breathing. The man stepped over the guard on the floor who was gritting his teeth and trying to bandage his leg. “A sword? How charmingly old fashioned… and annoying.”

Mycroft was trying to control his breathing, the man was insane, but…  _ the guards were too strong, too fast, and fangs…? _ His mouth and chin were coated in Ulysses’s blood.

Mycroft swallowed the bile rising up in his throat. “Did you expect me to NOT put up a fight?”

The leader-  _ vampire? No! Impossible! _ -.pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the blood off of his chin. “I suppose I expected it from your brother, not you: a pity I need you alive, but I will need a great deal of blood to heal my servant,” he looked thoughtfully at the man on the floor, “perhaps that detective’s blood will do?”

_ This made no sense, but Gregory was in danger.. _ . “If he vanishes it will sound almost as many alarms as if I vanish.”

“Oh, you’ll only be missing for long enough to addict you… and your compatriot will take care of those excuses…”

“Addict? What?”  _ none of this made any sense… none of it _ . He could feel his heart hammering in his chest against the ring… _ Please let Gregory get away…   
_


	6. Chapter 6

Just moments later- as though the leader had somehow heard their approach- the door opened to the other man coming in with a hand locked around Gregory’s upper arm- _ if he was as strong as these men ...at least Gregory looked unharmed: he looked superficially calm and actually angry, but not hurt. _

Mycroft closed his eyes… _ Caring was never an advantage, never. _ He opened them and met Gregory’s eyes- _ fear, anger, relief. _

“What happened!?” the returning man hissed.

Gregory looked around slowly and then said, “Looks like what happened was you lot underestimating him.”

The leader looked Gregory over and looked back at his injured guard, “Is it worth trying to keep you, I wonder…”

“Gregory…” Mycroft hesitated and then braced himself and spoke a bit louder.. “Gregory is important to me- I will be far more inclined to cooperate if he is unharmed.” _ it would at least buy us both time. _

Mycroft saw Gregory’s eyes widen when he said that- surprise and then concern. He asked softly, “Are you alright Mycroft?”

The leader was looking back and forth- Mycroft thought he was actually puzzled, but he maintained an amused and superior expression well. “Important, is he? Should I replace this incompetent servant with him then?”

The injured man’s head snapped up with a look of desperation, “No! Please! I’ve always… I've served you-”

“Quiet.” he said it dismissively , but the man cut off with a shudder and curled back around his wounded leg.

Mycroft was trying to make sense of this, but the only thing that he could come up with was… “You… are actually… vampires.” Mycroft took another deep breath, “I thought poor Arthur was delusional…”

Gregory spoke up calmly, “Can you let me go over to Mycroft then? He looks hurt…”

“Apparently vampires are hellishly strong.” Mycroft winced, “But none of my injuries are severe.”

The man who had hauled Gregory in snorted, “They’re just thralls.” 

Gregory nodded slowly, “so just the two of you are vampires? No more lurking about?” 

Mycroft calculated quickly, “he’s a vampire,” he indicated the leader with his eyes, “and the leader of this group: he was going to bite me but bit Ulysses as a reward- was biting him when I managed to get to my sword.” Mycroft turned his head to the man holding Gregory, “and he is…”

The leader was looking between them, “Well, perhaps he will be useful- as an extra leash on Holmes until I have him controlled at least.”

Mycroft sagged in relief- the iron grip of the man holding his arms keeping him upright. he didn't know how they would get out of this- it was too surreal to fully process- but every minute he could keep them both alive their odds improved: odds that someone would notice; that he would be able to find a weakness… 

_ ‘thralls’ at least could be cut, bled… would my sword even harm a vampire then? Mythology had them sleeping during the day… if I could keep them alive until the vampires had to rest would we have a chance? _

Mycroft suddenly brought his head up as he realized what he’d just heard:

“You’ve been behaving at least,” The Vampire holding Gregory had said and then addressed the leader, “Can I have this one? He’s wearing the most god-awful cologne but once I scrub him off I'm certain he’ll make a fine thrall: he’s sensible.”

For some very peculiar reason Gregory looked amused, and when Mycroft met his eyes Gregory mostly looked concerned for him., 

Mycroft looked back and forth between the two men- vampires- he didn't know what being a thrall involved, but… if the man planned to keep him he wouldn't be harmed…

The leader looked at Mycroft, “Well, let’s test how cooperative you can be, Antarctica…” he glanced toward the other vampire and Gregory and then nodded at the guard behind Mycroft. “Let go of him.”

The guard said, “sir?” in an unhappy voice but released him. 

Mycroft was trying to steady himself when he saw Gregory’s mouth form the word ‘fall’ and he let his leg collapse under him- not difficult- and curled around his wounded wrist.

“Please!” Gregory sounded anguished, but Mycroft’s ear- far more used to Gregory’s voice- heard more anger than pain. “Let me help him… he’s hurt…”

Mycroft kept his eyes down, “I’m afraid that I can't get up without help.” 

_ If Gregory could get over to him and still had a weapon...maybe they could do something… the thralls at least were not immune to blades, so they shouldn't be immune to bullets- did he have his gun? _ Gregory was still wearing the sword, but he didn't know how to use it, and with his arms so damaged Mycroft doubted he could manage. _ For some reason the floor was shaking? No, I was. _

The leader snorted, “Didn’t you even take the sword off of him?”

“Why? I had his arm.” The other one replied.

“Look, I’ll just take off the belt and let it drop, alright? And then can you let me go help Mycroft?”

Mycroft realized that his body was starting to try to shut down from shock- _ tremors, cold _ \- he started practicing his breathing and feedback to be able to run if they got the chance. _ The probabilities on that were still unable to be calculated- vampires?! How do you even... _

He was still getting the tremors under control when Gregory’s warm hands were gently on his shoulders, “Mycroft, love, are you alright?”

“Shock, I think,” Mycroft managed to answer- his body felt sluggish but at least the pain distant and ignorable. “My arms are not very useful right now but-”

“A bit of blood would solve that,” the lesser vampire said with a frown, “Sir, seriously...both of the intelligence men will need healing: I can-”

Mycroft saw Gregory start to move, saw him pull the gun that he WAS carrying out- his mind raced ahead to the order of shots Gregory was likely to take… hoping his marksmanship could stand up against their likely superhuman speed.

Gregory stood up and calmly shot the guard who had been holding Mycroft, and before anyone could respond to that he turned and shot the wounded guard on the floor.

Mycroft froze, stunned: _ that had not been anywhere in his predictions? Why did Gregory shoot the wounded man? He didn't shoot the vampires? What? _

Gregory dropped the gun at Mycroft’s side and stepped between him and the vampires. “Now that those poor blood slaves are out of the way,” he seemed to stand taller and he dropped his voice into command, “You are under arrest for violations of more statutes than I care to count… PLEASE give me an excuse.”

The vampire that had been holding Gregory moved… at least Mycroft THOUGHT he moved… it was a blur of speed and then? Just as Mycroft cried out- certain that Gregory was going to die in front of him- something… happened.

Gregory moved, or … _ his arm grew? Both? _ And the vampire was flying? _ Could they FLY?! _ No… no he’d been thrown backwards, and was lying stunned against the wall…

And Gregory was too large, and his shape was wrong…

_ I must have been hurt more than I thought, _ Mycroft found himself thinking with that odd calm that happens sometimes in the middle of things- when his mind was processing so quickly that everything around seemed to have slowed….

Gregory was dropping into a sort of crouch, facing away from him… but Mycroft saw a great deal of silver hair...no… _ fur _?

The shape resolved itself into an unnaturally long limbed, fur covered creature with a massive head and shoulders- his costume had torn and split… and the vampire laying up against the wall had been thrown backward by a single blow from the creature…

_ Except the creature… was Gregory… _

And then there was a voice that was too deep, and too rough, and clearly coming from a mouth that didn't move or flex like a human mouth or throat: “You harmed my MATE…” and then with something that might have been a nightmare version of a laugh, he heard the creature say, “Run…”

The leader did…

Or he tried.

He didn't get far. 

Mycroft thought he was glad he couldn't see much of it, curled down into the floor as he was. He found himself staring at the guard’s body- the man that had been holding him with such a punishing grip… _ Gregory had shot him...he wasn't bleeding though? His breathing was steady… _

_ Tranquilizer? _

Mycroft was still puzzling over that when he heard sounds that were familiar from a dozen police scenes- from his brother, from Gregory: he looked up slowly to see Gregory putting handcuffs on the vampire that had brought him in?

He was staring at that, trying to make any kind of coherent sense when Gregory turned and came back over to him. “Mycroft… Mycroft?”

“Was I drugged?”

“Not that I know of…. I’ve called for backup, and help…”

“I feel rather cold, but I'm fairly certain that’s shock…”

Gregory sat down on the floor with him and wrapped his arms around him. “It will be alright… really… I’m… do your arms hurt?”

“I can't feel it much right now,” Mycroft considered the signals he was ignoring from his body, “Broken wrist or… no, broken bone above the wrist- better and less likely to have long term mobility issues-”

Gregory was suddenly chuckling, “Only a Holmes… help will be here soon.”

“You don't actually have fur…” Mycroft blinked a few times and then looked carefully at his arm, “no, you don't have fur right now. pity.”

“What?”

“... it would be warmer.”

“Mycroft...i… I CAN have fur…”

Mycroft gave up on making sense of any of it and tried to stick to the practical issues, “Then I think you should, at least until someone gets here with shock blankets…”

He felt an odd twisting and the body he was being supported by was much larger… he closed his eyes and refused to look… but it was also warmer, and softer…

Mycroft let himself fall into the dark.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's YOUR division

Mycroft woke up. 

His first thought was that he had had FAR too much to drink at the masquerade… _ vampires? Superstitious nonsense… _

His second thought was that he had been dosed with whatever Ulysses had been given and he opened his eyes in a panic.

His third thought was that the chair next to his bed that Gregory appeared to be sleeping in didn't look very comfortable.

“Hospital?” Mycroft’s eyes weren’t quite focusing, but yes, definitely a hospital. Gregory woke up and tried to talk to him- Mycroft thought he said something, but then the pillow apparently sank under him and he was gone again.

When he woke up again he was much clearer of mind. There was a man that he vaguely recognized as one of the Prime Minister’s people, but not one he usually dealt with, who was standing in the doorway… Gregory was standing by his bedside, facing the man.

“-that really remains is to deal with the humans: I know you think he’ll handle it well but I assure you we have memory blockers that will be much-”

Gregory- apparently quite human- growled at the man.

Mycroft managed to move his hand enough to put it on Gregory’s elbow, “So is he another...what are you anyway, a werewolf?”

Gregory turned sideways- clearly not quite comfortable turning his back on the man, “Mycroft, love, you back with us now?”

“Yes.” Mycroft looked up at him, “Silver suits you- why did you ever dye your hair brown?”

“Ah… I think you may still be a bit out of it…”

“Likely,” Mycroft looked past him to the aide, “Memory blockers? I highly doubt they would work in any case, but if I find out anyone had attempted to give me any without my consent I will arrange to have them shot- I’m fairly certain there must be something that will hit you.”

Gregory chuckled, “well… me, and if he lays a hand on my mate without leave, I will. He’s not one of mine, Mycroft; he’s a vampire… but one of the local ones.”

Mycroft looked up into familiar brown eyes, “So I take it the ‘things we should talk about’ involve you being a werewolf?”

Gregory slowly sat down on the edge of the hospital bed- still keeping half an eye on the … _ vampire _?... in the doorway. “Yeah, that… was most of it, actually.”

Mycroft nodded slowly and then looked past him to the… vampire. “So you are… like the two men that were hurting Arthur, but the other two men were,” he glanced at Gregory for confirmation, “thralls?”

Gregory nodded and Mycroft looked back at the other man, “Gregory said something about violating statutes… and obviously this was not a typical occurrence or their existence would not have gone unnoticed. you are some part of the… ah… vampiric government?”

Gregory just smiled but the aide looked a bit stunned; then he nodded very slowly, “i see your reputation is deserved: yes, I am one of the… it's not equivalent but call me a member of our parliament… specifically, I am one of the people charged with concealing evidence of the supernatural.”

Mycroft muttered, “Ah, is it anything like trying to cover up some of the idiocy I deal with?”

The aide smirked, “probably.”

Mycroft looked back up into worried brown eyes, “Having a Lestrade family member in the police for all those generations… would help keep things concealed…”

“It has, yes,” Gregory nodded, “”although honestly most of… most of the problems I deal with are far more mundane.”

“Mister Holmes, do you understand how important it is that none of this become public?” the vampiric MP asked him- not moving closer from the doorway, Mycroft noted.

Mycroft snorted at him, “Do you understand that ‘must never become public’ is the day to day business of my office? Speaking of which, how is Arthur? He was still breathing, I thought. They were… the leader had been biting him- apparently it's addictive.”

The man winced and lowered his head slightly.

“Ah... “ _ So he’d been killed- either by the vampire leader or in the cover up. _Mycroft tucked his own unhappiness and failures away to deal with later, “he had been ill for some time- I did drag him into MI6 for a blood test because we were concerned about him: died in the… ah… terrorist attack?”

Gregory put his hand on Mycroft's hand, “I’m sorry.”

“Attempted kidnapping, is how we were going to spin it.”

“Ulysses was… we had been testing for drugs- they’d found anemia… oh of course,” Mycroft closed his hand over Gregory’s, “If I had known… I assumed he was drugged, or delusional.”

“The child was arrested, and… we may get answers from him.”

“Child?”

Gregory sighed, “Junior vampire? The one who brought me in. His… his sire still controlled him, so he has reduced culpability…”

“Diminished responsibility,” Mycroft frowned and looked up, “Vampires must not have mind control in the fashion of the movies- they would have used it.”

The vampire nodded, “A handful of us come close, but not generally, no?”

“In that case I will need to look over the information on this case, and then likely to speak to the… junior vampire- This is utterly fantastic,” Mycroft grumbled.

Gregory chuckled, “You aren’t up to working yet, but… since you’re getting read in on the secrecy statutes… there are some things that can be done to speed up your healing…”

“Oh?”

“I am uncomfortable telling him-” the vampire started but cut off when both Gregory and Mycroft glared at him.

Mycroft found the controls for the hospital bed and sat himself up more fully, “Go find me whoever holds MY equivalent rank- or whoever passes for your Prime Minister.”

“But-”

Secure in the knowledge that they did not have mind control- and Gregory was right here- Mycroft fixed him with his firmest stare.

“It’s really….”

Mycroft frowned, without breaking eye contact.

The aide muttered something about “over my pay grade” and slunk away.

Gregory was looking impressed at him, “wow- that works on vampires?”

Mycroft allowed himself to relax, “apparently. Has anyone told Sherlock where I am?”

“He doesn't know you were hurt yet- and uh...I told one of my agents to throw a tricky cold case at him- keep him busy until I could talk to you.” Gregory fidgeted and then looked down at their joined hands, “I… Will you forgive me?”

“Forgive you? What on …” Mycroft saw it suddenly and pulled his hand lose- Gregory sagged and Mycroft swatted him.

“What?” Gregory looked puzzled at him.

“Gregory you may be not be as idiotic as most people, but you are being…” he pressed his lips together and then sighed, “no, no, I understand- there are times people were hurt because I had not told them things...including most recently with...” he felt guilt trying to claw its way to the surface and shoved it down. “Gregory, you had NO reason to assume I was dealing with anything involving your…” he suddenly saw the humor and started laughing.

Gregory mostly looked very worried and then looked up at the IV line, “Maybe I need to turn your meds down? Or up? Or...what’s so funny?”

“That… That’s your division!”

Gregory blinked and then slowly grinned, “yeah, that… is my division.”

Mycroft managed to stop laughing although snickers occasionally escaped, “oh dear- I shall never be able to hear you say it's not your division again without struggling to keep a straight face.”

Gregory leaned forward and kissed him, “You’re brilliant.”

“Naturally?”

“Just thought I should mention.”

“Hmm. Well, if the methods to speed up healing won’t… won’t be an issue… perhaps it would be best: I hate being on pain medication; it fogs my thinking.”

“Right, this is fogged….” Gregory shook his head, “Yeah, I’ll request it- dunno if we have much ‘in stock’ so to speak.”

Mycroft frowned, “wait, does this… does this have anything to do with what he- the vampire- said about needing blood to heal his servant… he was threatening to use yours…”

Gregory growled- a very human growl at least- “Let’s see one of them try… ah… werewolf blood, even in human form is…well I won't go into details, but it's not good for them, so in actual fact-”

“He said you were wearing a God-Awful cologne…”

“What? Oh… yeah… well, I expect he had a better than human sense of smell, and I was worried- and angry.”

“You smelled, like a werewolf…” Mycroft nodded, “I knew you were not wearing any cologne, but I hadn't had time to think about it at the time.”

“I was never in danger- I just needed to get you and any other civilians out of the line of fire.”

Mycroft smiled and reached out to Gregory again, took his hand, “Funny… I was just trying to keep the two of us alive long enough to figure out a rescue or escape… Do they need to sleep during the day?”

“They get lethargic during the day, and basically? their strength and speed goes down to human… they act like… well, like hungover or exhausted humans. So most of them do sleep.”

Mycroft nodded, “I was following protocol: stay alive until rescue, or...well, or get yourself killed before they can get information out of you. The only… I made one drastic deviation from policy by admitting I cared for you, but… he had threatened you without you even being there…”

Gregory leaned forward and carefully hugged him, “YOU were magnificent: you managed to get away, even temporarily, and took down one of their thralls…”

“I felt rather useless.” Mycroft thought about just HOW helpless he had been and sagged.

“Don’t ever think that Mycroft! you took one of them out of the combat, and kept yourself alive and in condition to be rescued… and if I hadn't been, well, what I am? You would have kept ME alive long enough to get rescued as well.” he was looking at him with such admiring eyes…

Mycroft smiled at him, “Do you know… I rarely if ever smile around other people? You make me feel like smiling… now… how quickly can we get me patched up and out of here? At the moment I do not feel terribly secure.”

“I’ll find out if they have any of the healing potions in this hospital- they might.”

“So not vampire blood? Good.”

Gregory’s eyes widened, “God! No, no, not unless your life was at stake- that’s more addictive than being bitten!

Mycroft remembered poor Arthur groveling and begging and shuddered.

“They… didn’t bite you? The tests didn't show-”

“No, I merely watched my associate demeaning himself, it was… well let’s not think about it: so there is some healing.. Potion,” he couldn't help being extremely unhappy at that and made a face, “How much of this do I need to catch up on?”

At that point he heard the distinctive voice of his former PA from outside the door, “You will let me in at ONCE!”

“But, Ma’am,” some poor security guard on the door whined.

Gregory looked relieved and walked to the door and opened it, “Thank God you’re here, Mycroft is awake and-”

Anthea walked in- Mycroft never did get used to her new code name- with her sensible shoes clicking on the floor she came up and looked him over with some relief. “Sir? I came as soon as I heard.”

“I am quite well, Anthea… and do forgive me, but Anthea suits you far better than your current name,”

“Oh, they have you on the GOOD drugs,” She smiled slightly, “What did you tell me about avoiding field work?”

“I wasn't… “ Mycroft sighed- he couldn't tell her of course, she’d likely have the same reaction he did to Ulysses telling HIM- “It wasn't supposed to be dangerous. As you can see I am well and Gregory is-”

“Wait… ‘Mycroft’,” she glanced at Gregory and then back at Mycroft, “Gregory? You’re actually calling each other by first names? When did THAT happen?”

Gregory opened his mouth to say something, but Mycroft spoke first, “Not very long ago, but as of last night- unless I have been unconscious for longer than I think- we are engaged.”

He hadn't expected her to react with QUITE so much shock.

Or to see Gregory reach out and tap her on the arm, “He knows- he knows about vampires and he knows about me.”

Anthea started blinking rapidly and Gregory helped her sit down.

“YOU know?” Mycroft frowned, “I believe I am beginning to be annoyed at being left out..”

“Uh…” She took a deep breath, “well, that... Helps.”

Mycroft arched an eyebrow at her, “I do understand security- as you well know-I am merely aggravated at finding out there is something above MY security clearance.”

Anthea stifled a laugh with her hand, “Not so much above, sir, as beyond… you…” She looked at Gregory, “You told him?”

“I had TOLD him there were things he needed to know, and we needed to talk about- mostly because if we were going to be serious I didn't think I could hide that from him.”

“From a Holmes, certainly not.”

“And then one of his fellows turned out…”

Mycroft said, “Ulysses was addicted to being bitten- and as far as I know tortured and broken- but not knowing that vampires existed I took his babblings as being evidence of drugs or… psychosis.”

Anthea winced, “I will get the report, and I will take YOUR report sir- no one else can likely type fast enough- and help figure this out: given the current situation I believe I should transfer back temporarily.”

“That would be appreciated,” Mycroft nodded.

“I’d feel a lot better if you did,” Gregory agreed.

Mycroft sighed, “so? What are you? Or are you another human who got dragged into this?”

“Ah… well you know there are vampires…”

“Unfortunately; I could have done without that knowledge.”

“And obviously the Detective,” She smiled suddenly, “I get to be in the wedding party or I shall scramble your files, sir!”

“No need to resort to threats,” He gave her one of his mock imperious looks- he had missed her. “If you scrambled my files I should be forced to resort to blocking import of your specialty cheeses.”

She placed an exaggerated hand on her chest, “No! Anything but that!”

Gregory was looking back and forth, “So you two… oh good, I was worried this would be awkward.”

Anthea sighed, “So was I… Most people don’t take it well, sir,” She said to Mycroft.

“People? Humans? Horrid things- I try not to deal with them: if I had understood earlier that I had another choice…”

Gregory and Anthea both covered their mouths trying not to laugh, and Mycroft thought he kept an admirably straight face.

“I shall get you OFF of these drugs, a proper cup of tea, and… a healing potion- I brought one with me in any case: I was concerned.”

Mycroft simply looked at her and gave the barest arch of his eyebrow.

“Ah… I’m a witch, sir.”

“A witch… naturally there are witches…” Mycroft closed his eyes, “well, the sooner I can be out of this horrid place that smells of disinfectant and where the lights have that horrible hum, the better- besides, I need to get out of here before my brother shows up…”

Anthea hurriedly opened her briefcase and pressed a small vial to his lips, “Indeed sir, drink that- no point in being subtle if you already know.”

He drank it while she shut off the medication drip.

There was a rather odd sensation and then he felt both much better, and considerably more tired: his eyes started to shut...

“Oh no, I refuse to spend one more night here.” Mycroft forced his will to override his body and started to struggle out of bed.

Gregory helped him up, “That’s amazing! Most people are out cold after that…”

“I am not most people- I reluctantly concede that I am people, but I am certainly not MOST people.”

Anthea held up a suit bag, “I concur: shall we get you home?”

Mycroft put up with being helped into his clothing- he desperately wanted a bath, but it would have to wait. _ Wait… bath… suit… oh dear... _

“I shall give you my full report in the morning then, Anthea, and you can inform me of how this is typically handled- and with whom… in the meantime I would like Gregory to take me home….” he looked sadly at Gregory, “While we need to discuss a great deal, I am far too tired.”

“I… I love you, that’s the main thing.” Gregory looked worried but hopeful.

“Well, as I had to admit to myself before I gave you my answer, I love you- have for some time: horrid messy business that- otherwise I would not be willing to deal with the potential, rather horrific ramifications of marrying you.”

Gregory looked stunned and kissed him and then pulled back, “horrific…? I don’t … I don’t lose my mind or anything; I thought you understood…”

Mycroft blinked at him, “Oh, certainly- you clearly maintain control quite admirably.”

They had to stop talking as Anthea helped them out past the guards and down to the waiting car. “I shall run interference , sir, and we can deal with this tomorrow morning as you suggested- I’ll have myself transferred back: no one else is cleared AND can keep up with your dictation speeds.”

Mycroft nodded gratefully and fell backward into the seat.

He must have slept because the next thing he clearly recalled Gregory was helping him into his house…

“Are… you aren't afraid of me?” Gregory said softly.

“Afraid of you? Whatever for?” Mycroft blinked up at the silvery hair and soft brown eyes- _ however did I not make the connection, ah well… I wouldn't have believed it. _

“Well, you said ‘horrific consequences’ and I don't-”

“Oh… that, yes: my suits and my carpets.”

“...i don’t understand?”

“While you have a lovely silver coat, Gregory, we shall have to discuss how to deal with it… I’m quite particular about some things.”

“Uh… I still don’t understand?”

“I assume you shed?” Mycroft shuddered faintly, “however soft and warm you may be, Gregory, I must insist you stay away from my good suits!”

Gregory stared at him for nearly a minute, and then started laughing…

And then kept laughing and having to lean against the wall even as he tried to help get Mycroft up to bed.

“I don’t think its THAT funny…”

“Don’t ever change, Mycroft…”

Mycroft couldn't help but chuckle at the unintended pun, “Certainly not, Gregory, I believe THAT is your division.”

**Author's Note:**

> Edited: this story continues in the series "Gregory's Division"  
There will very likely be a sequel (and other stories set in this world) but i have to catch up on a few of my WIPs first)


End file.
